Midnight
by shelllessturtle
Summary: Emily babysits Jack.  Hotch comes home to find her asleep.  Pure fluff.  Rate "T" for "To Be Safe"


A/N: Just a little bit of fluff that jumped me a while ago. I finally got around to typing it up, and my sister demanded I put it up here. Have fun!

Disclaimer: Trust me, you'd know it if I owned this.

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><p>A knock sounded at the door as Hotch buttoned his shirt. Tie hanging around his neck, trying to do the buttons one-handed, he tugged his door open to reveal his black-hair, pale-skinned co-worker.<p>

"Emily," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank god you're here."

"Hello to you, too," Emily replied, grinning.

Hotch sent her a harried grin, then ushered her inside. "Jack," he called. The little boy at the table turned at his father's voice. "Can you say hi to Emily? She'll be taking care of you tonight."

Jack waved. Emily smiled and waved back. "Hi, Jack," she said.

"Hello," the boy replied.

Hotch finished with his tie and proceeded to button his cuffs. "Jack would like pizza for dinner," he told Emily. "The number for the delivery place is on the fridge, or there's a couple frozen pizzas in the freezer if you want. He knows where the kid movies are, so he'll help you with that. He goes to bed at eight-thirty, but if you're watching a movie and it runs late, don't worry. Once he's in bed, adult movies are over the television. You have my cell, and I should be home about eleven-thirty, quarter to twelve." He pulled on his jacket and ran his hand through his hair. "Is that everything?" he asked, then grinned sheepishly. "I don't do this often. Jack's aunt normally watches him, but…"

"She's sick," Emily finished with a nod. "You told me. This isn't my first babysitting job, Hotch. We'll be fine, won't we, Jack?"

The boy nodded. "Fine, Daddy," he repeated.

Hotch smiled at his son. "All right, buddy. Come give me a hug and say bye."

Jack jumped out of his chair and ran to his father. Hotch caught the little boy up in a hug and held him tight. "Be a good boy," Hotch told his son.

"Yes, Daddy," Jack said solemnly.

Hotch let the boy down and then hugged Emily. "Thanks for helping me on such short notice," he said. "I can't tell you what it means to me."

"It's fine," Emily said. "Jack's adorable. We'll have a wonderful time. You just go and get through your dinner."

"Thanks," Hotch said again, and left.

Hotch returned to his apartment at midnight. He leaned against the door, exhausted. Bureaucratic dinners always bored him to death, and he was always surprised at how tired being bored made him. His forehead still resting against the door, he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He opened it and stepped inside.

There was no one in the front room, or in the kitchen. There was no light on in the bathroom, and Hotch wondered where Emily had gone.

Following the parental instinct to check on his son, Hotch peered into Jack's room. The tableau he was presented with was more precious than anything he had seen before.

His sleeping son lay curled against Hotch's co-worker. Emily, too, was asleep, her arms wrapped around Jack, holding him close.

Hotch smiled at them, loathe to wake Emily and ruin the scene, but he knew she'd probably kill him if he let her sleep.

"Emily," he called softly. "Emily, I'm home."

Her beautiful dark eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Morning, Hotch," she said with a sleepy grin.

"Good morning," he replied, smiling back.

Emily carefully extracted herself from Jack's clinging embrace and slid out of the bed. "Your son had a nightmare," she explained.

The look Hotch gave Jack was a soft, tender one, the likes of which Emily had never seen on his face before; her heart melt at the love in his eyes. When he turned the same look on her, her breath caught in her throat and she had trouble meeting his eyes

"I should get home," she said, turning to leave.

"Emily," Hotch said, catching her hand.

She glanced down, then met his eyes. "Four," she said quietly.

Hotch frowned in confusion. "Four?" he asked.

"You've called me by my fist name four times tonight, and you almost never do," she replied.

Hotch couldn't reply. He had been thinking about her as "Emily" for a long time, and he'd not realized that he had started calling her that. Silence stretched between them, spanning the distance of their arms and grasped hands. Their eyes locked, Hotch fought the urge to pull the woman in and kiss her senseless.

"Will you return the favor?" he asked.

He couldn't be sure in the low light of Jack's room, but he thought Emily was blushing. "Aaron," she breathed.

Hearing his name on her lips was too much. He tugged her back to him and pressed his lips to hers. A moment and a half of shocked stillness—not even long enough for him to panic—and she was kissing him back. Hotch tangled his hands in Emily's long, soft hair, holding her close, keeping her to him. He'd barely requested permission when she granted it, opening her mouth and letting his tongue slip in.

Emily made a tiny, strangled noise in the back of her throat. She pulled back, gasping for breath. Hotch, his hands still twined in her hair, pressed kisses down her neck and began sucking at her pulse point. Her whimper, too, was strangled, and she pressed her whole body into his.

"Aaron," she panted. "We're going to wake Jack."

Hotch nodded against her neck and pulled her into the hall. "Tell me you don't want to go home," he begged. "Tell me you won't."

Emily bit her lips, looking torn. "I want to stay," she said, "but…we're not supposed to."

"Since when has 'not supposed to' ever stopped you?" Hotch asked, half grinning.

Emily laughed softly. "You have a point." She paused momentarily. "Fine then," she said, and pressed her lips to his. "If you don't want me to, I won't leave."

_He has a lovely smile,_ she thought as he beamed. She squeaked in surprise as he swept her off her feet.

"Then, Emily Prentiss," he said, "you shall stay as long as you want."

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he walked down the hall.

"I'm taking you," he replied, grinning as she punched his shoulder lightly at his bad pun.

"Go ahead, then," she said, smiling in reply. "But if you make anymore bad jokes, you'll regret it."

Conversation after that was irrelevant.


End file.
